


You'll be dead by 19

by Volos_Guide_To_Being_Cool



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AU Where the M9 Rescue Beau, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, The M9 Think Thoreau Sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22504111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volos_Guide_To_Being_Cool/pseuds/Volos_Guide_To_Being_Cool
Summary: "You'll be dead by 19"Or an AU where Thoreau was told Beau would die by 19, and when that doesn't seem to be happening he decides to hire some mercenaries to make sure that comes true (OTheRwISE WhAt woUlD beCoME oF His ForTuNE).
Comments: 32
Kudos: 217





	1. Jester

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I don't really know how tagging works so here be some disclaimers: Thoreau is emotionally manipulative, but no explicit physical abuse. Alcohol use at points. A few swears. The M9 think he sucks.

Beau screamed as her father grabbed her roughly, and she began to wail her small fists against him, but her tiny body couldn’t deal any real damage. Her father yanked her further from the playground where the other kids were watching the scene unfold.

“Let me go! I hate you!” Beau screamed, kicking her dad in the shins. 

“Shut up, Beauregard. You’ll be dead by 19, so just be quiet!”

Beau’s cries fell silent, and she stared at her father in shock. 

Then, she started screaming again. 

***

Beau sat at the table, pushing her vegetables around on her plate. Her dad sat at the head of the table, a scowl on his face. Her mother sat opposite her, staring vaguely into the distance. 

“Eat your vegetables, Beauregard.” Her dad snapped. 

Beau’s eyes flickered into a frown. “Or what? What’re you gonna do, dad? You gonna kill me?” 

He scowled at her, and Beau stared back in anger. She’d heard it a million times. You’ll be dead by 19, blah, blah, blah. Well, that was five more years she could torture him.

“Oh, do what you want. You’ll be dead by 19.” Her father scoffed. “What do I care?”

Beau felt that familiar flash of anger and fear, and she stood up sharply. Her mother glanced at the two of them, chewing a small piece of meat with an air of disinterest.

“Great.” Beau said. “Guess I can do whatever the fuck I want, then.” 

She picked up her plate, and tossed the vegetables at her father. They splattered against his new suit, and her father went still. He looked up at her, with fury in his eyes. He stood slowly, and Beau flinched.

She turned, and she ran.

***

Thoreau Lionett sat opposite a blue tiefling at a table in the bar, and he slowly sipped his wine. He was wearing a new suit that was a size too small for him, and the folds of his neck rolled over the edge of his collar. 

“Hello! So lovely to meet you, Mr Lionett. I saw your ad! Are you totally looking for someone to find out whether your wife is cheating? That’s what it is, isn’t it?! You totally think your wife is sleeping with someone.” Jester blurted, leaning over the table to grin at Thoreau. 

The man winced, and delicately dabbed his mouth with a napkin. 

“No, that is not the service I require. You are a mercenary, yes?”

“Yeah, I totally am. I can do all kinds of things-”

“Well I only need one thing. I need someone killed.” 

“Oh.” Jester paused, and her tail stilled from its vibrant swaying. She frowned, and bit her lip. “Well… I guess I can kill someone for you.” 

“If that isn’t in your skillset-”

“No, no, it totally is!” Jester glanced at the purse on her hip, which was far too light. Her mother hadn’t sent her anything in a while. “I can totally kill someone. Totally.” 

Thoreau looked unconvinced, but he nodded. 

“Payment upon completion, then. Make it look like an accident.” 

“Oh, sure! Um, so it has to be an accident?”

“Yes. You could - I don’t know - make her slip in a puddle of grease and fall down.” 

“And who am I killing? You haven’t told me their name.” 

“Beauregard. Here is her schedule.”

Jester took the paper Thoreau slid across the table, reading through it. Sewing time? Powder room? Ceramic doll construction? Reading time?

“Um, I’m not killing a child, right?” Jester asked.

“What? No. Of course not.”

“And is this woman, like, really evil?” 

Thoreau met Jester’s eyes, and he blinked slowly. Jester cocked her head, and he saw doubt flicker across her face. 

“Yes. This woman is the most evil woman I’ve ever met.” Thoreau lied. 

Jester looked slightly more reassured, and she nodded enthusiastically. She stuck her hand out, and Thoreau shook it. 

***

Jester studied the schedule she had been given, as she wandered up through the rainbow vineyards. She had grossly underestimated the soil under her feet, and she occasionally found herself sloughing through patches of mud. 

She grimaced as her boot sank into a deep patch of mud, and she glanced down to see dirt covering more than half of her boots. 

“This is great. Totally great.” Jester murmured. She yanked her feet from the mud, and they pulled free with loud slurping sounds. “Totally. Great.” 

Jester glanced up at the three story estate on the hill, which was still far away. Why hadn’t she gotten a horse? Jester huffed, and began to walk again. This was good exercise! That was why she’d decided to walk!

It had nothing to do with how light her purse was!

Nothing at all!

Jester heard a plop as she stepped into another patch of mud, and her eye twitched. She took a deep breath, and yanked her foot free. She was about to call it a day and head back to town, when she heard hoofbeats approaching. Jester turned, seeing a young woman with dark skin and bright blue eyes. The woman scowled at her, and slowed her horse. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” The woman demanded. “You’re gonna get mud ev-”

The woman glanced at Jester’s boots, and the bottom of her dress, and chose not to finish her sentence. Jester glanced down at herself, and then grinned up at the woman. 

“I wanted to do some exercise! I thought this looked like a totally fun hill to climb!” Jester chirped.

The woman rolled her eyes, and extended her hand. “Come on. I’ll take you to where you’re going.” 

Jester glanced at the house, which looked so far up the hill, and she took the woman’s hand. The woman pulled her up, and Jester settled behind her, wrapping her arms around the woman’s waist.

“Thanks! I mean, I was totally fine walking…” 

“Sure. Where am I taking you?” 

“Oh, I’m going to the Lionett estate! Have you ever been? It’s totally beautiful up there isn’t it? I heard they’re super rich!” The woman stiffened, and Jester cocked her head. “What’s wrong?” She asked. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” The woman said, her voice strained. “The estate is pretty, I guess.”

“You don’t like it?” Jester asked. 

“Does a bird like its cage?” The woman replied. 

Jester frowned at that, and tried to lean around to study the woman’s expression. In doing so, she wobbled, and nearly fell off the horse. The woman swerved to steady her, and Jester exhaled sharply. 

“Don’t do that.” The woman snapped.

“Oh, totally. I won’t do it again, I swear! Hey, do you like the Lionetts?” 

“No.” The woman said. 

“Hmmm… Do they have a library?” 

“Yes? Why do you ask?” 

“Well, I can totally draw some dicks in the books there if you want me to.” 

That surprised a laugh out of the woman, and Jester smiled. The woman didn’t say anything in response, so Jester decided that was a yes. She could totally draw dicks in all of the books. Or should she target it? Maybe, all the non-fiction? What if they had smutty books?

So lost in her thoughts, Jester barely noticed the woman ride into the Lionett estate. The horse slowed to a stop, and Jester glanced at the estate around her. She gaped as she looked at the three story house, with two front arches, and the beginnings of a garden. 

“It’s so beautiful here!” Jester gushed, staring at the architecture. 

The woman scoffed, and gestured towards the door. “Then go ahead, I’m sure they’ll let you inside to marvel. They love that shit.” She snapped. 

Jester frowned, glancing at the woman’s face. Bitterness and resentment warred in her blue eyes, and her dark lips were turned down in distaste. 

“You really don’t like them very much, do you?” Jester asked. 

“Are you getting off my horse?”

“Huh? Oh… Yeah.” Jester slid off the back of the horse, with some reluctance. The woman glaring at her seemed to be in so much pain, and she didn’t know the words to help her. So, as Jester backed away, she waved cheerily. “Bye! Your clothes are super cool!” The woman looked taken aback, and Jester saw a small smile flicker onto her face. 

“Thanks. I’ll see you around, maybe.” The woman said. 

Jester nodded enthusiastically, and hurried to the front door. There were people moving in and out of the house, bringing crates and papers through the door. Jester hovered by the threshold, waiting for the right moment to get in unnoticed. 

Taking a breath, Jester slipped inside. She took in the lush carpets, the art pieces on display, and the fancy furniture. It made her smile. It reminded her a little bit of home. 

She slipped up the stairs, keeping herself out of the way of the people who bustled around. She found a quiet corner, and drew out the schedule. According to the paper, this ‘Beauregard’ was supposed to be in sewing time. Pretty soon, she should be doing her accounting lessons. 

So Jester crouched behind a pot plant, and she waited, tracking the schedule. No one noticed her, which Jester assumed was because the traveller was doing something tricky to conceal her. 

“Hey, traveller?” Jester whispered.

“Yes, dear?” A voice whispered back. 

“Do you think I should be doing this?”

“I think you can do what you want.” 

“But… I don’t know if I should be killing people.” 

Silence echoed around her as Jester fiddled with the schedule paper, and she felt a featherlight touch on her shoulder. 

“I think, Jester, that you should do what you think is right.” The traveller whispered. 

“But-” Jester started, turning around. The traveller was gone. 

She huffed, and crouched back down beside the plant. When it hit twelve, she pulled out a bottle of grease. She hurried forward, and dumped the grease at the top of the stairs. She then quickly ducked back behind the plant. 

Pretty soon, Jester could hear foot steps approaching the grease. She held her breath, and squeezed her eyes shut. 

“What the fu-” 

She heard a thump, and felt a spike of fear. She had totally just killed someone and she was totally a murderer and-

Jester’s eyes flew open, and she saw the woman from earlier, who was now clothed in an ugly yellow dress. The woman had fallen backwards, and was attempting to get up. Her flat shoes kept slipping on the grease pile. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Jester blurted out, hurrying to help the woman up. 

“I don’t need your help.” The woman snapped, shoving her back. 

Jester backed up, but after a few more minutes of struggling, Jester slowly offered her hand to the woman. The woman glared at her, but begrudgingly took it. The woman nearly slipped again because of her grease-covered shoes.

“I’m so, so, sorry. I totally didn’t mean to make you slip like that.”

“Then who the fuck was that for?” The woman snapped.

Jester opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted as a door flew open, and Thoreau stepped out, glaring down the corridor. 

“Beauregard, you forgot your hairpin. You can’t go downstairs looking like that.”

The woman yanked her hand out of Jester’s grip, and she glared back at Thoreau. “I don’t think our investors will care if my hair is up, dad.”

Jester gaped as she glanced from the woman, Beauregard, back to her father. Oh shit. Jester stepped backwards, and she felt her shoe slip. With an undignified yelp, she fell backwards, and tumbled down the stairs.

Her shoulders and head hit wood as she tumbled, and her vision went black. 

When Jester’s eyes fluttered open again, she could see Thoreau’s beady eyes glaring at her. She grinned weakly at him, but his scowl deepened.

“You’re fired.” He snapped.


	2. Fjord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blasts Ten Long Years in the Saddle while I write*

Fjord slowed his horse as he approached Kamordah, and he barely refrained from pulling a face at the dreary surroundings. He nudged his horse, setting it to walk towards the tavern he could see. 

The people around him moved out of his path, and he nodded solemnly towards them. He straightened his posture in the saddle, and kept his head high. As he approached the tavern, a tangle of dried wood blew past him. 

The wind blew his hair back, and he halted his horse at the tavern. He jumped down with as much grace as he could muster, and he pointed at the nearest person he could see. 

“You there. Stable my horse.” He demanded. 

The boy jumped forward, and took the reins. A few people were glancing at Fjord, intrigued by his demeanour. He did his best to walk confidently, and he threw open the door of the tavern.

As the door flew open, it disturbed dust on the ground, and Fjord got a lungful of mineral-infused dirt. 

His facade shattered, and he began sneezing. 

When he recovered from his fit, he noticed a few people smirking at him. His blood ran cold, and any illusion that he was calm and in control vanished. He sighed heavily, and entered the tavern. 

He slid into a seat at the bar, and nodded to the barkeep. “How much for some whiskey?” He asked.

“Whiskey? That’d run you about 5 silver.” The barkeep said.

“...I’ll take an ale.” Fjord replied. 

The barkeep shrugged, and began to pour some ale into a dirty tankard. Fjord grimaced, but he could hardly complain. He didn’t have the coin to afford anywhere better. He slid the barkeep 5 copper, and took his ale.

As he sipped from the tankard, Fjord surveyed the room. He was running out of money, and it would be a few days until he could get to a bigger city where he could get some proper work. 

He sighed when he realised there was no noticeboard for work requests, and he turned back to the barkeep. “Where can I get work in this town?” 

“There ain’t any work to be had.” The barkeep replied. The barkeep took a rag to the tankards, and began wiping them. Fjord was pretty sure all that was doing was adding more dirt to the inside of the cups, and he grimaced.

“Well, is there anyone I could talk to? Surely I could carry boxes. I just need enough to get grain for my horse for a few days.” 

“I can’t help you.” The door to the tavern swung open, and Fjord saw the barkeep wince as someone stepped inside. “Well mebbe I can. That fella - Thoreau - has been here the last few days, trying to hire people. He was talking to a tiefling yesterday. A blue one! I ain’t seen many of those.” 

Fjord turned around with interest, surveying the man who had entered. He was short and sweaty, and Fjord didn’t like the look in his beady eyes. Fjord downed the rest of his ale, and he stood, making his way to the man.

“Good evening, Sir. I was told you might be looking for someone to do work?” Fjord said.

“Yes, yes. You would be willing to take this job? I had to fire my other worker, she did an appalling job. Grease all over my wooden floors.” Thoreau snapped. 

“...Right. Well, shall we talk over a drink?” Fjord asked. 

Thoreau nodded, and Fjord escorted him to the bar. They took seats beside each other, and Fjord watched him with interest. Thoreau kept darting his eyes around the room, as if expecting a hidden assassin to burst from the shadows.

“I’ll have a glass of Lionett wine.” Thoreau said. 

“I’ll take a whiskey. Thank you for paying for these drinks.” Fjord said. Thoreau looked as if he wanted to object, but reluctantly handed the barkeep the money. 

“What would you be requiring of me?” Fjord asked.

“I need you to help me… With a problem.” 

“Yes, I’d gathered that. What do you need?”

“I need you to kill someone. Can you do that?”

“I… Can. What’s the payment?”

“200 gold.” 

Fjord felt a flash of excitement, but he kept his face pensive, as if he wasn’t sure. The barkeep slid him a whiskey, and he sipped it slowly. The whiskey burned his throat as he swallowed, and his eyes watered.

“Well. I’m in pretty high demand as a mercenary. I’d need more than that. How about 300?” 

“I can do 250. But that’s all.” 

“Hmmm… I’ll do 250, but I’ll need 50 upfront.” 

The man frowned, and sipped his wine. He pondered for a few moments, and then nodded. “Fine, but no questions asked.” Thoreau said.

Fjord nodded, and took another sip of his whiskey. He barely suppressed a cough, so he set his whiskey down. Maybe he should have stuck to ale. Thoreau slid Fjord a piece of paper, which looked a bit crumpled. He opened it, scanning through the schedule.

“What is this?” Fjord asked.

“Her schedule.” Thoreau said.

“This doesn’t help me. I’ll need to know her description, her fighting ability, and a layout of her residence with her room labelled.” Fjord said. “Unless you want me to kill her during her accounting class, where there will be witnesses?” 

“No! No, make sure you aren’t seen.” 

Thoreau snatched the paper back from Fjord, and flipped it to the blank side, scrawling a quick description of the woman. He then drew a map on the rest of the paper, indicating her room.

“Who is this woman to you?” Fjord asked, scanning through the description.

“Beauregard? She’s- I said no questions.” Thoreau snapped.

Fjord raised his eyebrows, but he nodded. “Okay. This map isn’t good enough, though. Get me proper blueprints or the deal is off.” Fjord said. 

Thoreau stiffened, but he nodded. “I’ll have them sent to your room. Is that all you need?” 

“That should be all.” Fjord said. As Thoreau got up to leave, Fjord stopped him. He looked pointedly at the purse on Thoreau’s hip, and Thoreau scowled. He hurriedly dumped a pouch into Fjord’s lap, and then bustled out of the bar.

Fjord turned to the barkeep. 

“A bottle of whiskey sent up to my room, please.” He said.

“You ain’t paid for a room.” The barkeep said. 

Fjord placed 5 gold on the counter, and raised his eyebrows at the barkeep. “Send the maps up when they get here.” 

***

Fjord sat on the floor of his room, poring over the map that had been given to him. He absentmindedly poured himself another glass of whiskey, and sipped at it. He had been examining the maps for the last hour, and was pretty comfortable with the layout by now. 

A three story house was less than ideal, it would make getaway harder if he had to escape through a window at any stage. Thoreau had labelled the gutters for him, or maybe a servant had, so he knew which windows were possible to get out of. 

Fjord tapped a pencil against the paper, and made a few more notes. 

He pulled over a stack of paper, and spread them out in front of him. The stack contained all the news clippings and birth documents he had been able to get his hands on at the library. 

Fjord began to skim read them, separating any that related to the Lionetts, and trying to find any that related to Beauregard. He found purchase records of Thoreau buying the plot of land they lived on, and there were employment lists, but no mention of Beauregard.

Fjord sighed, and took a large swig of his whiskey. 

He burst into a coughing fit as the whiskey burned his throat, and he sucked in lungfuls of air. “Shit.” He gasped. 

He slammed the glass down, and papers scattered as he regained his composure. 

He blinked the water from his eyes, and refocused on the stack in front of him. He squinted, trying to think past the soft buzzing in his head. Maybe five cups of whiskey had been too much. 

He tried to grab the paper that had just slid into his lap, and after a few fumbling attempts, he managed to grasp it and lift it up. He held a copy of a birth register from the local hospital, and he could see Beauregard’s name printed. 

Right under the name of her parents.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” 

Fjord glanced back at the map, looking at the layout with fresh eyes. He glanced at his whiskey bottle, which was nearing the bottom, and unstoppered the top of it. He then swigged the rest of it, and placed the empty bottle down. 

“I thought it was fucked not having family.” He said. 

***

Fjord stood outside the Lionett estate, hidden amongst the bushes. He’d been out here for almost an hour, waiting for people to fully wind down for the day. The whiskey he had been drinking an hour ago was still in full effect, and his head was buzzing with the effects of it. 

He kept summoning and unsummoning his sword, his lips curling up in delight with the little flash of light that accompanied the action. He had his plan firmly in his head, and he was going over the details periodically. 

However, he hadn’t accounted for his drunken state, and he was starting to see a few issues with his plan. For one, his reaction time was slower, which would be a pain in combat. For the second, his body was numb, which was good for pain tolerance, but bad for climbing the gutters. For c, he was more easily distracted by things. 

For c? 

Shit, maybe the whiskey had been a mistake.

How many cups had he drunk?

5? 6? Did he count his earlier drink? Was it 7?

The light in Thoreau’s window flickered out, and Fjord snapped his attention back to the house. Everything was silent, so he began to creep towards the house. The twigs he snapped didn’t bother him, although the rational part of him was shaking its head at his sloppy conduct. 

He reached the edge of the house, and he slid his hands over the latticework, tugging to test its strength. He could barely feel his fingers, but he also couldn’t feel fear, so he hauled himself up. 

He dug his boots into gaps in the latticework, and pushed himself higher, taking his time. He made sure he knew where he was putting his hands, so it took him longer than he would have liked to reach the third floor. 

He grabbed the edge of the balcony, and swung himself up with a grunt. He stumbled to his feet, and examined the window. Lucky for him, it was cracked open to allow the air inside. He slid his fingers into the gap, and slowly pulled the window upwards.

He slipped inside, and stumbled, knocking his elbow into something on the table beside him. He hurriedly fumbled to grab the vase he’d knocked, and carefully set it back down. He began to creep down the corridor, listening for any sound that someone might have stirred. 

He stopped outside Beauregard’s door, and he summoned his sword. He slowly turned the handle, and he slipped inside. He shut the door behind him, and he stood in her room. 

And he realised. 

He had planned for everything except this. 

He couldn’t kill someone’s child. 

But he could kill a father, for daring to suggest such a thing. 

Fjord let go of his sword, and it vanished into the void. He turned, about to yank the door open and charge into Thoreau’s room, when he heard the sound of crying.

He stopped, and turned back. The thin curtains framing the window moved in a soft breeze, and Fjord moved towards the window. He leaned out of it, twisting to glance upward. A young woman sat on the roof, her knees drawn to her chest. 

He could see the tears running down her face, and he felt a stab of sympathy. He remembered plenty of nights curled up on the roof of his orphanage, the only place he could find some silence. 

So, perhaps because he’d drunk too much, he grabbed the edge of the roof, and pulled himself up to the roof. “What’re you doing up here by yourself?” Fjord asked, pulling himself up to sit beside her.

Beauregard flinched, and quickly rubbed her tears away. She squinted into the darkness, and Fjord offered her a wave - which she didn’t see. 

“Uh, so I’m Fjord.” He said. 

“What the fuck?” She asked, her voice gravelly with tears. 

“That’s fair.” Fjord said, pressing his lips together. “Yep.”

“Seriously, what the fuck, man?” She snapped. 

“Hold up, I think I have some whiskey.” Fjord said.

Beauregard frowned, and Fjord fished a flask from his belt. He passed it to her, and she hesitantly took it. She took a sip, and he saw the grimace on her face. “That’s shit.” She hissed. She took another swig anyway. 

“Your parents seem pretty shit.” Fjord commented.

Beauregard laughed, and finished his flask. “Is that all you have?” She asked, shaking the flask.

“Yeah. I drank the rest of it.”

That got another laugh from her, and she smirked at him. “Well, wait here a moment.” She swung herself back down through her window, and Fjord watched with interest. She returned a few moments later, holding a bottle of wine. “Here, I stole this from my dad.” 

Fjord took the bottle, taking a small sip. He raised his eyebrows, and nodded in approval. “That’s good stuff.” 

“Yeah.” Beauregard said, taking the bottle back from him. 

They sat together like that for a while, in peaceful silence. Fjord lay back on the roof, and stared up at the sky. The moon didn’t come out from behind the clouds, but he enjoyed the brief moments when everything was bathed in silver. 

“Do you want to leave?” Fjord asked.

“Where could I go?” Beauregard replied. 

And that was that. Beauregard swung herself back into her room, and Fjord heard the window slide shut. He sighed, but he knew how to get down. He took 5 more gold from the pouch, and put it into his boot. 

Then, he scribbled a note on the back of Beauregard’s schedule. He slid down from the roof, onto Thoreau’s balcony, and cracked the window, sliding the pouch of 40 gold and the note onto the sill.

_Thoreau.  
Due to not being told the extent of your job, I will be declining it.  
Here’s your payment back. I took 10 gold.  
Get fucked,  
Fjord._

And he climbed back to the ground, taking one last look at Beauregard’s window. 

He had to do something about this.


	3. Caleb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me a while to write, but on the flip side, I have the chapter after this done! You can expect it in a few days.

Caleb stood at the library desk, waiting patiently while the librarian wrote a list of the books he was taking out. The library in Kamordah had a pathetically small collection, but he’d grabbed whatever he could find of interest.

The librarian wrote the last title, and nodded at him. Caleb gathered his books up in his arms, and began to make his way out of the library. The stacks in his arms teetered precariously. 

As he pushed open the door, he stumbled into someone, and his books came crashing down. He swore softly, and began gathering them up. He watched as Beauregard bent with a frown, picking up a couple of the books. 

“I’m sorry man, I didn’t mean to run into you.” She said. 

“It’s all good.” He said. 

Beauregard placed the books on the top of his stack, and Caleb pressed his lips together, smiling slightly. 

“You sure you’re alright, man? That’s a lot of books.” 

“Ja, I am fine.” Caleb said. He took a step forward, and gently tilted the book stack forward, sending them crashing to the ground again. Beauregard bent to gather the books up again, but this time she held onto them, tucking them under one arm.

“Just let me carry them back to your place, man.” 

Caleb gathered the last few books, and slowly stood. 

“Thank you.” He said. “I should have borrowed less books.” 

“Yeah, I mean, are you planning to start a fucking rival library or some shit?” 

“It certainly looks that way.” He said, offering another thin lipped smile. 

Beauregard raised her eyebrows, and began sauntering forward. She stopped, and glanced back at Caleb. “Uhh… Where do you live?” She asked. 

“Oh, I do not live here. I am staying at the tavern.” 

“That place is a shithole.” 

“Ja, I will not argue that.”

“Watch out for bedbugs.” 

“I am sleeping on the floor.”

“Smart.” She said, before lapsing into silence. Caleb kept an eye on the people around him, trying to find a lull in the crowd. His shoulders grew tenser as they got closer to the tavern, and there was still not a moment of complete silence. 

He couldn’t just set fire to her in the middle of the street. 

But there would be too many witnesses at the tavern. 

He gritted his teeth, and he halted, waiting for her to stop. 

“Do you know anywhere I could buy paper?” He asked. 

Beauregard stopped as well, and she scratched the back of her neck. She glanced down the street, and then began walking back the way they had come, stopping outside of a general store. 

Caleb entered, and purchased a small quantity of paper. He lingered inside, hoping that stretching the time out might empty the streets somewhat. When he came back outside, he found Beau leaning against the outside of the store, one foot propped against the wall. 

She was staring into the distance, and she looked tired. Caleb felt a flash of empathy, which he quickly stuffed back down. He began walking. 

“I had a look at some of the books you borrowed.” Beauregard said. 

“Oh, ja?”

“Some… Interesting choices.” She said, with a suggestive lilt to her voice. 

Caleb frowned, and stopped short, looking at what books she had picked up. She held one book up with a smirk, and Caleb blushed brightly. 

“Tusk love, hey?” She said. “All your other books look like they’re for research.”

“T-that’s what tusk love is for, too.” Caleb stammered.

Idiot.

“Oh, researching how to make a lady feel special? I can give you some tips.” 

“N-No, it’s not like that.” 

“You were researching how a lady could make you feel special?” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

“No!” 

Caleb’s blush deepened, and he ducked his head. Could he cast a spell that would make the ground open up and swallow him? 

“Relax, man, I’m just teasing. You can read what you like.”

“Ja. I know that.” He whispered. 

“I don’t know how you do it. Read-” She gestured to the huge stack he was still carrying. “This much.”

“I like it.” He replied. 

“Really? I fucking hate reading.” 

“You just have to find stuff you like.” Caleb said, beginning to walk forward. The streets still weren’t empty! He just needed a moment alone with her, and it would be done. 200 gold in his pocket. 

“I don’t like anything.” Beauregard said, bitterly. Caleb felt another stab of empathy, but he ignored it.

“No? Nothing at all?” He asked.

“Hmm. I guess I like fighting. But there aren’t too many books on that here.” She sounded bitter again, and Caleb glanced at her with curiosity. 

“You do not like it here.” He said. 

She shrugged. 

Caleb saw the tavern approaching on the horizon, and he felt panic swell. There were still too many people out and about, and he couldn’t think of any way to get her isolated. Reluctantly, he led the way to his room, and got his books settled on the ground. 

“Thank you for helping.” He said. 

“Sure. Any reason to stay away from home from a bit longer.” The woman shrugged again, and headed out. “See ya.” She said.

Caleb watched her go.

***

Caleb sat at a table in the bar, paper spread before him as he wrote notes. His mind wasn’t really on this work, it was on how he could accomplish his goal. He was running scenarios in his head, trying to find the best angle to work at this, when a tiefling plopped down in the seat opposite him. 

“Hi!” She said. 

Caleb stared at her.

“Sooo… We saw you come in here with Beauregard. You’re not planning to like, _kill_ her, or anything?” Jester asked.

We?

Caleb glanced around, and spotted a half-orc leaning against the bar, sipping slowly from his tankard. What had given him away? What were his escape routes? There were two windows, and one door. He could go up the stairs and attempt to jump down as well.

“Because you know, we were totally going to kill her, so we just wanted to know whether you were going to like, get in our way…” Jester said. 

Caleb relaxed slightly, and placed his quill down. “Thoreau hired you as well?” He asked. 

“I _knew_ it! Fjord! He’s totally going to kill her!” Jester cried, slamming a hand on the table. 

Caleb froze, his eyes darting to Fjord. Fjord sauntered over, and set his ale down. He grabbed a chair, and began to turn it around, so he could sit backwards on it. Mid-swing, the chair hit him in the shin. “Fucking balls!” He hissed, dropping the chair.

“Fjord, are you okay?” Jester asked. 

“I’m _fine_!” He hissed. 

He grabbed the chair up, and slammed it down, opting to sit in it normally. He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. 

“You can’t kill her.” He said. 

“Why?” Caleb asked. 

“Becaus-” Fjord started.

“Because she’s totally lonely and sad and she just wants some friends! And she totally isn’t evil, no matter what Thoreau says! And- And- You can’t!” Jester said. 

“Yes, all of that.” Fjord said. “And I don’t know if you’re aware, but Thoreau is her father.” 

“Pretty shitty dad.” Jester hissed.

Caleb froze at those words, and he stared at both of them in shock. “That is her father?” 

“Yeah! He’s basically the worst person ever, basically.” Jester said. 

Caleb didn’t hear her as she continued to speak, presumably imploring him to leave Beauregard alive. He could just hear the roaring of the flames, and the screaming as his parents burned inside. 

“He will regret it.” He whispered. 

The stream of talk stopped, and Jester exchanged a look with Fjord. She began nodding furiously. “Right! Right, so we need to get her out of there! Because otherwise he’s going to hurt her real bad.” 

Caleb looked up, his eyes filled with shadows of his past. 

“Ja, I will help. What is the plan?”


	4. Nott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I think Nott sees life as if she's the main character in a die hard movie.

“200 GOLD?!” Nott screeched.

“Shhh! Yes, I’ll pay you 200 gold.” Thoreau said, glancing around the tavern.

“LET’S KILL THIS MOTHERFUCKER!!” Nott yelled, cocking her crossbow.

“Shhhhhh!”

***

Nott crashed through the third level window, and glass shattered around her as she skidded to a stop. She yanked her crossbow up, and fired off a shot towards the bed. 

Nott was already cocking her crossbow again as someone tumbled out of the bed, lurching towards the wall. The edge of the woman’s arm was bleeding from where the arrow had skimmed it. 

Nott loosed another arrow, which slammed into the woman’s shoulder, and she cried out, stumbling backwards. She fumbled for her bedside lamp, and grabbed a match with shaking hands. The woman struck the match, and lit the lamp. 

The light flared, and Nott could see her pale skin and confused green eyes as the woman swung the lamp. 

“Wrong room! Sorry!” Nott yelled, barreling out of the door.

“Intruder!” The woman yelled from her room. 

Nott bared her teeth, and sprinted down the corridor, trying to recall the instructions Thoreau had given her. Was it left at the stairs or right? It was left. 

Yeah. It was left. 

And the third door? Or the fourth?

Probably the fourth.

Nott burst into the fourth room that branched off the left from the stairs, her crossbow at the ready. She shot the arrow, hitting a man who was reaching for a sword. The arrow sunk into his chest, and he stumbled back with a grunt.

“Shit! Wrong room!”

Nott skidded back out into the corridor, slipping on smooth wooden floor. She pushed herself off the wall, and darted into the third room, swinging her crossbow around. The room was empty.

“Shit.” 

Nott could hear the sound of people rousing, and shouts of alarm coming from outside. She quickly slung her crossbow over her back, and grabbed an eyelash that was encased in an amber-like material. She quickly whispered a few words, and she vanished from view.

Nott scampered to the window in this room, straining her arms to pull it open. The window was stuck fast, and she grunted as she pulled harder. She heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and with a burst of energy she braced herself and pulled. The window groaned open, and when it was open enough to slip out of, Nott scrambled out of the room. 

She jumped up to the roof, and began to run along the edge of it, counting the windows she passed. If it wasn’t the fourth or third room on the left, it had to be one of those rooms on the right. 

The shattered window that she had busted through was the third room, so Nott went one past, and jumped down to the other window. Nott grabbed the edge of the window, pulling it open with ease. 

She slipped into the dark room, slowly creeping forward. Her hands found her crossbow, and she held it before herself, scanning the room. A woman was crouched on her bed, staring into the dark cautiously. 

The sound of yelling and heavy footsteps echoed outside, but her room lay still. 

Nott cocked her crossbow, and the woman flinched, glancing towards the sound. Nott fired, and the woman leapt out of the way, landing beside her bed. She stumbled against the wall, knocking against her bedside table. 

The woman squinted in the dark, and she focused on Nott. Nott shot again, and the woman wasn’t quite so quick. Nott’s arrow impacted the wood beside the woman’s head, and a thin line of blood began to drip down her cheek.

“Who are you?” The woman croaked.

“Are you Beau?” Nott asked. 

The woman stared towards her, and slowly nodded. Nott loaded her crossbow, but before she could shoot, Beau was moving. She grabbed the collar of Nott’s shirt, and yanked her forward, slamming their heads together. Pain burst from Nott’s head.

Nott hissed, and twisted out of her grip, darting to another part of the room. She jumped, planting her feet against the wall and pushing herself off. As she flew through the air, Nott shot another arrow. 

This arrow hit the woman’s shoulder, sinking deep into her flesh. Nott saw her wince, but the woman didn’t cry out. Instead, she leapt forward as Nott landed on her bed, tackling Nott. The woman slammed a fist into Nott’s cheek, and Nott tasted blood. 

Nott kicked up, slamming her knee into the woman’s stomach. When her grip loosened, Nott shoved her hands away, and skittered out from under her. Nott grabbed her crossbow again, and shot the woman in her hip. 

Beau yelped, and she slid off her bed, crouching down behind it. Nott jumped onto the covers, levelling her crossbow. Beau grabbed the edge of her blankets, and yanked hard, sending Nott tumbling to the ground. 

Nott screeched as she hit the floor, and her crossbow skittered across the floor. Beau jumped over the bed, and Nott found a knee on her chest, and a hand at her throat. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Beau rasped. 

“Getting paid, motherfucker.” Nott sneered. 

Then, she wrapped her hand around the arrow in Beau’s hip, and yanked it backwards. Beau screamed in pain, and blood gushed from her wound. Nott dug her nails into the wound, and Beau twisted, yanking herself away. 

Nott sprung to her feet, running for her crossbow. She pointed it at Beau, who lay on the floor with her hands pressed to her hip. Her eyes looked desperate, and she was gasping in pain. Nott cocked her crossbow, and Beau tried to scoot backwards. 

She slipped in a puddle of her own blood, and she hit the floor hard, staring up at Nott. “What’re you waiting for?” She rasped.

Nott frowned, her eyes darting towards the door. “Why isn’t anyone coming?” She asked.

Beau laughed, sneering at Nott. “They don’t give a shit about me.” 

Nott frowned, glancing back towards the door. She could hear footsteps moving back and forward outside, and the sound of doors opening and closing. No one was stopping outside of Beau’s door. 

Nott hissed, and swung her crossbow towards Beau’s window. She shot her bolt, and the window shattered, spraying glass over the window sill. 

Nott stood over Beau, and pointed down at her. “You owe me 200 gold.” Then, she ran for the window, and leapt out. She twisted in mid air, and loosed a shot at the window next to Beau’s that she hadn’t shattered. 

“Fuck you, Thoreau!” Nott screeched. 

***

“What a fucking dickhead!” Nott exclaimed, leaning towards the bartender. The bartender spared her a small nod, before he moved a bit further from where she sat. “I mean, _really_.” Nott slurred. 

The bar was empty, but for a table that contained a half-orc, a tiefling, and a human. Nott frowned at the bartender, who was pointedly ignoring her, and she slipped off her stool. She stumbled over to the table, who were engaged in quiet conversation. 

“What a dickhead!” Nott said again, pulling herself up onto an empty chair at the table. 

“I know, right?!” Jester exclaimed, leaning closer to her. “Uh… Who are you talking about?”

“Thoreau!” Nott said, slamming her tankard down. Jester’s nose wrinkled as the ale slapped the table, and she scooted her arms back slightly. 

“Of course, that’s who I _thought_ you were talking about.” Jester said, nodding furiously. “He’s the worst! He got so cranky with me just cause I fell down the stairs!”

Nott nodded emphatically. 

“Did he hire you to kill his daughter as well?” Fjord asked. 

“THAT WAS HIS DAUGHTER?!” Nott screeched, slamming her hands on the table. 

“Who did you think you were killing?” Fjord scoffed.

“I dunno! I just thought she was a servant or something.” Nott said. 

“Hm.” Fjord said, taking a long slurp of his ale. 

Nott narrowed her eyes, and leaned over the table. Fjord watched with mild curiosity, tipping his tankard up to continue slurping. “I don’t like your attitude.” Nott said, before placing her small hand at the bottom of his tankard, and flicking it up. 

Ale splashed onto his face, and Fjord sputtered, slamming his tankard on the table. 

“Ohmygoodness, are you okay Fjord?” Jester exclaimed. 

“I’m fine.” Fjord gasped, wiping a hand over his face. 

Nott turned to Caleb as Jester tried to offer Fjord a handkerchief. Caleb watched the other two with impassive eyes, and his eyes flickered to Nott as she leaned closer. 

“What’s their deal?” Nott said, rolling her eyes dramatically. 

“They are just passionate people, I think.” Caleb said. “Did you come over here to join us?” 

Nott frowned, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind the simple question. “Join you in what?” She asked. 

“We are hatching a plan to rescue Beau.” 

“A plan, huh?”

“Ja, we think we will break into her-”

“COUNT ME IN! I’M GONNA SMASH ALL THE WINDOWS WITH THIS BAD BOY!” Nott screeched, yanking her crossbow off her back. She jumped onto the table, and aimed it at the chandelier, screaming as she pulled the trigger. 

Her arrow severed the top of the chandelier, and it crashed to the ground. Jester laughed in delight as the glass exploded, and the candles went rolling over the wooden floor. The barkeep froze behind the bar, his face flushing red. 

“We’re so sor-” Fjord began, before being cut off by the barkeep. 

“GET OUT OF MY BAR!”


	5. Yasha

Yasha sat on the steps to the bar, sharpening her blade. The sound of metal scraping on stone soothed her, and she focused solely on this task, ignoring the people who gave her sideways glances. 

Her hair was filled with flowers that she had braided into it, and they were a bright spot against her monochrome colouring. She hefted her sword, examining it. Satisfied, she placed her whetstone away. 

She rested her greatsword beside her, and watched the streets quietly. People who passed by jumped when they saw her, but that didn’t bother her very much. Clouds blanketed the town of Kamordah, and had the whole time she had been here.

It reminded her of home. 

A rumble of thunder boomed around her, and Yasha smiled softly. Rain began to fall, pelting her face, and soaking her clothes. Rivulets of water gathered along her blade, running towards the ground. 

A dark skinned woman began to approach, and Yasha stood, picking up her greatsword. She sheathed it, and waited as the woman got closer. The woman spared her a glance, and then moved to step past her, to head into the bar. 

Yasha put a hand out, gently pressing on Beau’s shoulder. 

“I was hired to kill you.” Yasha said. 

Beau stopped, and turned. The rain had plastered her brown hair to her neck, and rain ran over her exposed stomach. 

“That’s a hell of a pick up line.” Beau said.

Yasha lowered her hand, and inclined her head. “I would like to challenge you to a duel. If you win, I leave. If I win, I kill you.” 

“Who hired you?” 

Yasha smiled slightly, and shook her head. She didn’t say anything more. 

“If I win, I get all your money, and you leave.” 

“That seems fair. What time is preferable to you?” Yasha asked.

Beau shrugged. “Why don’t you leave an ominous letter on my pillow?”

Yasha smiled again, and shook her head. “I don’t think I can get into your room.”

“Then, tomorrow. When the rain lets up.”

Yasha glanced at the sky, watching the lightning leap from cloud to cloud. “I don’t think it will be gone for a while.” She said. 

Beau stared up at the dark sky, and when she glanced back down, Yasha was gone. 

***

Rain poured outside Yasha’s window, and she stopped her preparations to watch it pelt against the glass. Lightning flashed outside, and the rumble of thunder followed it. She closed her eyes, and felt the ground shake as thunder rumbled again. 

She slowly unbraided her hair, gathering the flowers in the palm of her hand. She began to press them into the pages of a worn leather book, and then she raised the book to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the cover. 

She rebraided her hair, minus the flowers, and stared once more out the window.

Then, she grabbed her sword.

***

Yasha leaned against the outside of the tavern with her arms crossed. Only the occasional traveller was braving the downpour, and most of them had their hoods drawn up. Rain splashed against her skin, and ran through the cracks in her armour. 

She tipped her head to the sky, enjoying the rain on her face.

Minutes later, she heard the sound of boots slapping on wet ground. Yasha slowly opened her eyes, and glanced towards the woman before her. Beau carried a wooden staff, and angry eyes. 

Yasha nodded, and began walking. 

Footsteps fell in behind her.

Yasha stopped when she reached the main square of Kamordah, and she turned. “Do you mind if I use my sword?” She asked. 

“Do whatever you want.” Beau said. She gripped her staff, and waited. 

“I wish you luck.” Yasha said. 

She drew her sword. 

Beau rushed forward, swinging her staff. She was faster than Yasha had expected, and the staff cracked into Yasha’s knee. Her leg buckled, and Beau cracked another hit into Yasha’s ribs. 

“That was a good hit.” Yasha said. 

She shoved Beau backwards, and steadied herself. Beau growled, and rushed forward again. This time, Yasha was ready, and she grabbed Beau’s staff. She twisted it, and yanked it from Beau’s grip, sending it flying. 

Beau ducked under Yasha’s arm, and delivered a punch to her stomach. 

Yasha didn’t flinch.

Instead, she stepped forward, and sliced downwards. Beau twisted out of the way, and the sword caught the edge of her hip. Rain mixed with blood, and Beau skidded on the slick cobblestones.

Yasha waited for Beau to regain her balance before she stepped forward, swinging her sword down again. Beau ducked under it, and delivered a swift uppercut to Yasha. Her head snapped up, and Yasha was forced to take a step back.

Yasha reversed the swing of her sword, and brought it back up, scoring a thin line across Beau’s chest. Beau’s shirt tore, and revealed a bandage on her shoulder. 

“What happened?” Yasha asked. 

Beau leapt forward, and slammed a fist into Yasha’s cheek. 

“Fuck off.” Beau hissed. 

Yasha stepped to the side, and sliced up Beau’s shoulder. Her bandage split, and the rain took hold of it, slamming it to the ground. Yasha frowned at the hole in Beau’s shoulder, that was just starting to scab over.

“That looks like it hurts.” Yasha observed.

She reversed the blade, and slammed the hilt into Beau’s shoulder. Lightning split the sky as Beau screamed. Beau rushed forward, and slammed several hits against Yasha’s armour. 

Yasha twirled around her, spinning her sword. She slammed the hilt into Beau’s back, and Beau gasped. Beau staggered forward, and Yasha slammed the hilt into the back of Beau’s knee. 

Beau hit the ground on her knees, and blood ran down her chest as she gasped in the cold. Yasha took her shoulder, and pushed Beau to the ground. Yasha stood over her, and put the tip of her sword to Beau’s throat.

Thunder echoed overhead. 

The rain began to fall harder, making Yasha’s grip slippery. Yasha began to apply pressure, but her grip suddenly slipped, and the sword hit the cobblestone beside Beau’s head. Chips of stone flew up, and Beau flinched, turning her head away. 

Yasha paused, glancing at the sky. 

_You don’t want me to kill her?_

A rumble of thunder echoed, returning an answer. 

“Thank you for the fight.” Yasha said, pulling her sword up. She sheathed it, and offered Beau a hand. “Can I get you an ale?”

“Are you going to kill me?” 

“No.”

“Alright.” 

Beau took her hand, and pulled herself up. 

***

Yasha slammed open the door to the bar, stamping her boots on the door mat. Beau followed close behind, not bothering to wipe her shoes. The tavern was busier than normal, with a few tables occupied by workers who were done with their days work. 

One table was particularly rowdy, and the barkeep kept a close eye on them. Yasha could hear the tiefling shouting from where she stood. She made her way to the bar, and leaned across it. 

“Two ales, please.” She said.

“THREE ALES AND A MILK! SHE’S PAYING!” A voice screeched. 

Yasha glanced at the side, and saw a goblin grinning at her. Yasha didn’t say anything to the contrary, so five ales and a milk were placed on the counter. Yasha passed over the coin, and Nott grabbed two drinks. 

“Bring the other drinks.” Nott said, scampering towards the rowdy table. 

Yasha glanced at Beau, at a loss. Beau shrugged, and took two drinks. They made their way towards the table, and Beau placed the drinks on the table. Yasha watched Beau freeze, as she glanced at Nott. 

“You tried to kill me.” Beau said. 

Nott froze as well, and glanced back. She laughed nervously, and glanced back at her other compatriots. “I’ll buy the next round?” Nott offered.

Beau stared at Nott for a few seconds, and then shrugged. “Yeah. Alright. Get me a chair and we’ll call it square.” 

Nott rolled her eyes. “I’m not a slave.” 

Beau narrowed her eyes. Nott groaned, and slid off her seat. 

“I’M TAKING THESE.” Nott yelled, dragging two chairs over from a nearby table. 

Yasha stood awkwardly as Nott dragged a chair to the table for her. She nodded her thanks, and sat down. Jester leaned over the table toward Beau, gasping as she took in all of Beau’s injuries. 

“Ohmygosh hold on!” Jester exclaimed, laying a gentle hand on Beau’s forearm. 

Light flashed, and Beau’s cuts scabbed over. Yasha watched the group with careful eyes as they exchanged glances. Fjord was about to open his mouth to say something, when the door burst open again. 

Their table went silent as Thoreau stormed in. 

“Beauregard! What do you think you’re doing?” He yelled. 

Beau stiffened, and turned around. She skulled the rest of the tankard, and smirked at the group. “Get me those drinks next time.” She said to Nott. “If I survive that long.” She added, under her breath.

Beau stood, and walked towards her dad. He grabbed her arm roughly, and she yanked it back with a snarl. She stalked out of the bar, and didn’t spare a glance back. Yasha watched her go, troubled. 

“Man, her dad is a dickhead.” Nott muttered. 

“That was her dad?” Yasha asked. 

“Yep.” Fjord said, popping the p. 

“Did you try to kill her?” Jester asked, glancing at Yasha. 

“Yeah. I did. But I didn’t want to, in the end. It just seemed-” 

“Wrong.” Nott finished. 

There was a moment of grim silence.

“Fjord, do you still have the blueprints?” Jester asked.

Fjord nodded, and rolled the parchment onto the table. The group moved their tankards to make space, and Yasha leaned over to study the paper. There were several notes written on it, and a few dicks drawn in the empty space. 

They seemed to be integral to the plan in some way. 

Each room was labelled, and Beau’s room was circled with red paint. A few things had been scratched in the margins, dimensions of the house, guard patterns, guard numbers. The paper said two guards during the day, and four at night.

“Those numbers are wrong. They have four during the day. Six at night.” Fjord glanced at her, and then nodded, writing down the new numbers. Yasha studied the guard patterns, and nodded. “Is this the plan?”

“Part of it.” Caleb said.

Yasha leaned forward. 

“Then tell me everything.”


	6. Caduceus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write - but the last chapter is in the works! It might take longer for me to publish it, but shouldn't be longer than a week. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos so far!

Caduceus nodded sagely, blinking at Thoreau. Thoreau squinted, and finally stopped talking. Caduceus took a sip of his tea, and waited. 

“S-So… You’ll do it?” Thoreau asked.

“It’s too early for your child to become moss.” Caduceus said. 

Thoreau flinched, looking quite perplexed. 

“W-What? How did you know she’s my-”

“I know things.” Caduceus replied. 

Truth be told, it had been hard not to overhear the plans being hatched last night. None of the people at the bar had any concept of an indoor voice. 

Thoreau tugged nervously at his collar, and sweat rolled down his face. 

“So will you do it?” 

“Yeah. I’ll have a talk with her.” Caduceus said, sipping at his tea. 

“What? No- I’m not paying you to talk to her.”

“Yeah, I’ll have a talk. That’s nice.” Caduceus said. 

He placed his empty cup down, and gave Thoreau a slow smile. He began to pack his tea set away as Thoreau babbled angrily. Caduceus ignored his constant speech, and stood up. He grabbed his staff, and began to walk away.

***

Caduceus sat at the edge of the Lionett estate, at a small table overrun with vines. The wall beside him had vines and ivy crawling up the side. Caduceus had set two cups of tea, and he waited. 

He listened to the sound of horses stomping over muddy ground, and the sound of grapes being pulled from the vines. Footsteps echoed around him, and he glanced towards the woman who approached him. 

She slowed, and glanced backwards, towards the back of the Lionett estate. 

“Have a seat.” Caduceus called. 

Beau scanned the surroundings warily, and didn’t move forward. 

“I just want to have a talk.” Caduceus said. 

Beau shifted from foot to foot, and then strode forward, taking a seat. “Fine. Mysterious strangers at my secret hideout beats doing accounting.” 

Caduceus poured tea into the cups, and brought his cups to his lips. He took a deep sip, and set his cup down. He waited, patiently. Beau stared at him, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. 

“Well? What d’you want to talk about?” Beau snapped. 

“I was waiting for you.” Caduceus replied. 

Beau glared at him, and stayed silent. 

“Alright. I’ll start then.” Caduceus said. Beau waited, and Caduceus took another sip of his tea. “What do you want to be?” 

Beau frowned, and shrugged petulantly. “I dunno. What kind of question is that, anyway?” 

“A fairly simple one, I would think.” He said. 

“I dunno.” She replied. 

“Why?”

“I dunno!” Beau snapped. 

Caduceus gave her a probing glance, and Beau snatched her teacup, downing the drink in a gulp. Caduceus took the tea pot, and poured more tea into her cup. Beau downed it in a gulp, again. 

“I just- There isn’t anything- There’s nowhere to go! Have you seen this place? It’s a shithole. I don’t know how I escape from a place like this.” Beau said. 

“You could just leave.” Caduceus said.

“How? I don’t have any fucking money. I’d die within the week.” Beau snapped. 

“What if you went with friends?” 

“I don’t have any fucking friends.” 

Caduceus took a sip of his tea, and nodded sagely. “But you have people who care about you.” He said. 

“Where? D’you want to point them out to me?” She asked, sarcastically. 

“They are there. Have some faith.” Caduceus said. 

“Yeah. Right.” Beau rolled her eyes. 

Beau leaned back on the chair, and the legs rose up off the ground as she rocked the chair. She leaned forward, and the chair legs slammed onto the ground. She took the tea pot, and poured herself another cup. 

“This is nice tea.” She said, begrudgingly. 

“Isn’t it?” Caduceus rumbled. 

Beau shrugged, and took a sip of her tea.

“I think this blend was the Tealeaf family.” 

Beau froze mid sip, and slowly set the cup down. She wiped her mouth, and grimaced. “Right.” She said. 

“Are you happy?” Caduceus asked. 

Beau frowned at him. 

“No.” She said. 

Caduceus nodded, and took her teacup, tipping the tea onto the ground. He began to pack up his tea set. 

“BEAUREGARD!” A voice bellowed. Caduceus glanced up, seeing Thoreau storming towards where they sat. 

Beau rolled her eyes, and stood. Caduceus stood as well, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Be ready at midnight. Pack everything you want to bring.” He said. 

Beau frowned, and shrugged off his hand. 

“Whatever, man.” She said. 

Caduceus watched her go.

***

Caduceus slid a seat out from the table, and sat down. A hush fell over the table, and the map was whisked out of view.

“I think I’ve been put here to help you.” He said. 

Silence met his words. 

“I can get us into the basement.” He offered. 

“Well, what the fuck are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Fjord said, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

“Let’s do it.” Caduceus said, with a slow smile.

“N- W- We have no idea who you are.” Fjord said. 

"Oh. I'm Caduceus."

"We've already got so many of us. Why not add another?" Yasha murmured. "The more the merrier."

There were a few nods of assent from around the table, and Fjord glanced around with exasperation. “Really? Is no one else bothered by this?” He asked.

Fjord pursed his lips, and took a slow sip of his drink. “Okay. Great.” He grumbled. 

***

The group of six stood outside the Lionett estate. Nott slipped forward while everyone else waited, and she shot her crossbow rapidly, knocking down the silhouettes on the balconies. Nott waved a hand, and scampered forward. 

Caduceus stepped up to the front door, and moved the pot plant, picking up a small key. “This opens the cellar.” Caduceus rumbled. 

The group bustled to the cellar, and unlocked the door.

The drew their weapons, and stepped inside.


	7. The Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who supported me along the way! It's been a pleasure to write, so I hope you'll enjoy my final chapter.

Beau drew her knees up to her chest, staring at the candle on her bedside table. The flame flickered, spinning higher. 

Beau turned her gaze to her window, looking out into the darkness. 

The sky was thick with clouds, and no stars twinkled among them.

Soft thuds sounded from outside, and orange light flitted across her bedroom walls. Shadows twisted and warped around her. Beau glanced back at the candle that was burning low, and she bit her lip. 

The flame went out. 

***

“Go, go, go!” Nott hissed, waving a small goblin hand. 

The group burst into the cellar, startling a woman who was lifting a barrel. She dropped the barrel, and the wood splintered. Wine leaked from the cracks in the wood, and stained the floor. 

“Put your hands up.” Fjord said. 

The woman raised her hands quickly, darting her wide eyes around the group. An arrow flew from the group, and impacted the woman’s side. Her eyes bugged out of her head, and a second arrow hit her shoulder. 

She slumped backward, and hit a shelf of barrels. 

“What the _fuck_ , Nott?” Fjord hissed. 

“She was going to talk!” Nott said. 

Caduceus bustled to the woman, and laid a hand on her forehead. Light glowed from his hand, and her wounds stopped bleeding. 

“See! Caduceus healed her, she’ll be fine. Let’s go!” Nott said. She started running for the stairs. Fjord groaned, and rubbed his temple. He glanced at Caleb, who shrugged, and started after Nott.

“The door’s locked. Give me a minute!” Nott said, placing her crossbow down. 

Fjord glanced at Yasha, searching for anyone who would join him in grumbling at how irresponsible Nott was. 

But Yasha wasn’t paying attention to the rest of them. Her eyes were trained on the back of the room, and she held her sword at her side. She took a quiet step forward, and placed herself between the rest of the group and the shadowed shelves. 

A flash of light burst from the shadows, and Yasha used one hand to grab Fjord, throwing him towards the wall. The needle of light sunk into her shoulder, but she didn’t cry out. Instead, her eyes darkened, and a soft wind began to whirl around her. 

Wings of blackened bone burst from her back, and her lips curled into a snarl. 

Two more points of light sunk into her chest as Yasha moved forward, swinging her sword in a sharp arc. 

A cry of pain echoed in the room as blood sprayed into the air, and the invisibility dropped. A middle aged human stood beside one of the shelves, clutching his shoulder. Blood trickled over his fingers, blending with the wine that stained his flesh. 

“You killed her.” He gasped. 

He raised his bloodied hand, and began to trace sigils at a frightening speed. The blood that coated his hand was sucked forward, pulled towards the sigils. The blood hung in the air as he drew the last line, and pushed forward with his hand. 

His eyes flashed red as a wave of force snapped outwards, slamming into the unsuspecting members of the Mighty Nein. 

Fjord and Jester were slammed into the walls, and Yasha heard Jester cry out. Yasha gritted her teeth, and reversed the swing of her blade. The metal caught in the man’s shirt, tearing through flesh and cloth. 

The man made a choked sound. Blood stained his lips as he began mumbling an incantation. He ducked under Yasha’s next swing, and stumbled backwards, amongst the shelves. 

Yasha stepped into the opening of the first set of shelves, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

“You can’t hide.” She hissed, feeling the anger bubbling in her veins. She slashed out with her sword, and wood cracked as she slashed cuts through most of the barrels on the shelves. 

Wine began to pour from the barrels, sloshing as it hit the ground. Wine splattered onto Yasha’s boots and pants, staining them a pale purple. Fjord moved past her, blocking another set of shelves. 

Yasha heard the sound of wood creaking and breaking, and then the sound of wine gushing from the cracks. Her lips curled into a grin, and she moved down the row, slashing to her left and right. 

She rounded the corner, and spotted footprints of wine leading further into the cellar. She stalked down the edge of the rows, stopping at the final one. The footsteps led a few feet down, and ended there. 

“There you are.” She said. 

He didn’t get a chance to cast another spell before Yasha’s sword found his chest, and he dropped, becoming visible again. Yasha’s smile faded, and she sheathed her sword. Her wings folded back down, and she met Fjord’s eyes at the opposite end of the row. 

He gave her a grim nod, but she could see the questions in his eyes. 

“I got the door!” A voice called. 

“Well. Shall we?” Fjord asked. 

Yasha nodded. 

***

Beau’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of her door creaking open, and she tossed over, feeling the sheets tangle around her legs. She squinted at the door, holding her breath. A shadowed figure stepped inside. 

“Dad?” She croaked.

***

Jester pushed open the cellar door, and stepped into the kitchen. Little hamster unicorns floated around her, which she had coloured purple and black this time, for the purpose of being incognito. 

But, come on. She couldn’t be expected to _also_ lose the sparkles.

“It’s all clear!” Jester chirped. 

Nott gave her a thumbs up, and vanished into the shadows. Fjord, Yasha, and Caduceus came up the stairs. 

“We will head left. Let’s knock out any guards, and capture any workers. Leave them tied up.” Fjord said. “You three take the right.” Fjord nodded to Caleb. 

“Ja, we can do that.” Caleb said. 

“And then we meet at the base of the stairs to the second level, we _know_ Fjord.” They’d been over this plan numerous times already. “I don’t know why we can’t just be sneaky and head upstairs.” Jester grumbled.

“Because we-”

“Because we need to be able to get out without opposition, fine.” Jester said, rolling her eyes. She still didn’t understand why they couldn’t just make Beau be quiet as well. It wasn’t actually that she was mad because everyone had shot down her idea of carving a dick-shaped door into the wall and sneaking in that way. 

That totally wasn't why she was mad.

Fjord sighed heavily, and Jester made a face at the shadows, where she could swear she heard Nott cackle softly. Jester beamed at Caleb as the other three left, and he turned towards her. 

“Shall we start with the dining room?” He asked.

“Yeah, totally. Uhhh, Nott are you still here?” Jester asked.

“I’m everywhere, motherfucker.” A voice said, echoing through the kitchen. 

Jester glanced at Caleb, and he offered her a small smile. 

“Would you mind going first?” He asked. 

“Oh, sure!” Jester said. 

Jester bounced to the door out of the kitchen, and slowly pushed it open. She peeked her head through the door, and then turned around, giving Caleb and Nott a thumbs up. Caleb’s eyes widened slightly, and he ducked to the side, as an arrow whistled past his ear. 

Jester squeaked, and scrambled back from the doorway as another arrow flew towards them. Caleb threw his hand forward, and light burst from his fingertips, illuminating the dining room. 

A figure crouched behind the table, holding a bow. They winced as a globule of light swirled around their head, and Jester took that moment to run into the dining room, ducking behind a pillar. 

Her duplicate pulled away from her, and ran towards the guard. Her duplicate jumped over the table, with purple hamster unicorns swirling around her. The guard jumped in fright as Jester’s duplicate grinned in his face. 

The purple hamster unicorns danced in the air, darting down to run their glowing horns through his chest. The guard cried out as bright energy pulsed through his chest, searing it with a radiant heat. 

Nott jumped through the doorway, leaping onto the dining table. She skidded along the smooth wood, loosing a couple of arrows towards the guard. One sailed past his head, and the other hit his shoulder. 

Caleb stood by the doorway and weaved his hands together, forming a ball of fire. He thrust one hand out, and the bolt of fire curved through the room, setting the guard’s cloak on fire. 

The guard shrieked, and shot his bow. One arrow hit Caleb’s hip, and he stumbled backwards, ducking behind the door. The other arrow whistled past Nott’s ear, tearing a chunk out of the top of it. 

“YOU’RE GOING DOWN, MOTHERFUCKER!” Nott screeched. 

She dove off the table, and tucked into a roll. She came up on steady feet, and shot an arrow point blank into the guard’s chest. The guard grunted, and he collapsed backwards, his eyes going dim. 

“Nott! We aren’t supposed to kill them.” Jester protested. 

Her duplicate crouched down, and cast a quick spare the dying. 

“Counterpoint. I’m a crazy motherfucker.” Nott said, baring her sharp teeth. Jester giggled, and her duplicate vanished. Jester stepped out from behind the column, and Nott’s flash of teeth softened into a smile. “Caleb? Are you okay?” Nott called. 

Caleb peeked out from behind the door, checking that the guard was dead. He winced, and nodded. “I will be alright.” 

Jester flounced over, frowning as she examined his wound. Blood dripped from a hole in Caleb’s stomach, and an arrow protruded from his flesh. Jester glanced up at Caleb, and gave him a large smile. 

Then, she wrapped her hand around the arrow shaft, and pulled it out.

“Sch-” Caleb gasped. 

Jester touched a delicate finger to his wound, and it sealed up. 

“All better!” Jester chirped. “Now, let’s check the ballroom. So Fjord doesn’t get _super_ mad at us.” 

“He’s got a big attitude for such a tiny man.” Nott said, rolling her eyes. 

Caleb’s lips curled into a smile, and Jester giggled. “But Nott! You’re _way_ smaller than him!”

“Not for my race! I’m above average for a Goblin!” Nott protested. 

Jester giggled again, and then pushed open the door to the ballroom, peeking in. She waved her friends in, and they did a quick sweep of the room. As Jester was examining a dark alcove in the wall, she heard Nott gasp. 

She turned, her hands glimmering with the beginning of a spell, but it wasn’t needed. Nott had found some Fabergé eggs in a glass cabinet. Nott pulled out her lockpick set, and in a few deft movements, she had unlocked it. 

“You should take those.” Caleb said. 

Nott grinned, and shoved the eggs into her satchel. “If neither of you tell Fjord, I’ll split the money with you.” She promised. 

“Ja, okay.” Caleb said. 

“Deal. But I also want a box of cupcakes!” Jester said.

Nott narrowed her eyes, and then nodded solemnly. 

“Deal.” She said. 

***

“Dad? What’s going on?” Beau rasped. 

She fumbled for the matches on her bedside table, striking a match against the edge of her bed. The match burst into orange flame, and the flame flickered, reflecting off something metallic. 

“...Dad? Is that a knife?” 

Thoreau took a step into her room, his eyes reflecting the orange light. 

“It’s not personal, Beauregard.” Her dad whispered. 

He took another step forward. 

The match in Beau’s hand slipped, and spun towards the floor. Her windows burst open, and wind howled inside, swirling around Thoreau. It lifted the edge of his shirt up, and his hair drifted around his face. The match spun slowly, the movement reflected in Thoreau’s wide eyes. 

His eyebrows snapped down, and the wind swirled past him, curving to snuff out the match. Her room went dark as the match hit the ground, and Beau heard the snap as the ashy tip broke off. 

And then she was moving, throwing herself backwards. 

And Thoreau was moving, with a speed she had never seen him display. 

And he was holding that knife. 

And Beau knew. 

She was going to die. 

***

“That’s the last of the rooms on the left.” Fjord said, watching Yasha pull the unconscious servants into the corner. “How do you think the others did?”

“I’m sure they did just fine.” Caduceus rumbled. 

“I don’t know if we made the right choice.” Fjord glanced at Caduceus, who gave him a slow smile. “I mean, I basically just threw Caleb in to watch Nott and Jester, but should I have split them up?” 

“They’ll be fine.” Caduceus assured him.

Fjord let out a huff of breath, and nodded. 

“Have some faith.” Caduceus said. 

Fjord glanced at him again, and nodded once more. “Right.”

Yasha approached them, and stood quietly as Fjord scanned the room one more time. The three of them headed out of the room, and towards the base of the staircase leading upwards. 

The other three stood there, and Jester had a suspiciously innocent look on her face, while Nott stared away from Fjord in a deliberate manner. 

Fjord narrowed his eyes, and looked at Caleb. Caleb’s expression was as neutral as ever. “What’s going on?” Fjord asked. 

“Nothing!” Nott and Jester said, at the same time. 

Fjord squinted at them, and then again at Caleb. Caleb just shrugged. 

“We should head upstairs. We shouldn’t waste time.” Yasha said. 

The group exchanged glances, and then drew their weapons. 

“Lead the way.” Fjord said. 

***

Beau’s back hit the wall, and her breath came in gasps. “Dad, what’re you doing?” She begged. She glanced towards her window, but the wind was howling up a gale, and rain was pouring down. Her windowsill was slick, and she’d slip if she tried to get out that way. 

“I didn’t want to do this.” Thoreau said. 

“Then _don’t_.” Beau begged. 

She hated begging. 

“ _Please_ , dad.”

Thoreau’s eyes were hard, and Beau couldn't see an inch of compromise in them. She glanced towards her bedroom door, and as if sensing her intent, the wind blew inside, slamming the door shut. 

The sound echoed around her, and Beau’s eyes darted back to her dad. He flexed his fingers on the handle of his knife, and took another step forward. 

“You have to die, Beauregard.” He said, his voice pleading. “Don’t you care about your mother? She’ll lose everything if you stay alive. All of this goes away.” 

“What are you _talking_ about?” Beau snapped. Tears were pushing their way into her eyes, and her vision was blurring. 

“The prophecy. She said you’d die before you turned 19. If that isn’t true-”

“The prophecy? You’re doing this for that _stupid_ prophecy? Dad-” Beau’s breath caught, and her eyes widened. The goblin. The pale woman. The people she had encountered this last week. “You hired them.” She whispered. 

“I tried to. They wouldn’t listen to reason.” Thoreau spat. 

“I h- I hate you.” Beau croaked, her voice cracking. 

Thoreau’s eyes narrowed, and Beau stiffened. Thoreau stepped forward, jabbing his knife toward her stomach. Beau ducked, and rolled out of the way. She came up in a scramble of limbs, and stumbled backwards. 

Her hands trembled, and she formed them into shaky fists. When Thoreau stepped forward again, she threw a punch toward him. 

But she pulled it. 

He was her _dad_.

A line of fire blazed along Beau’s stomach, and she gasped in pain. The tears on her face started falling in earnest, and Beau threw her arms up as Thoreau slashed again. A thin line of blood welled across her forearms, and Beau staggered backwards. 

No one was coming to save her. 

Her lips trembled, and she set them in a firm line. 

_Don’t you care about your mother? She’ll lose everything._

Beau hesitated again, and Thoreau stabbed forward clumsily. Beau stepped backwards, and her heel landed on the sheet she had thrown off her bed. She yelped as she fell backward. Air burst from her lungs when she hit the floor, and she stared up at her dad with blurry eyes.

Thoreau stood over her. 

And he hesitated. 

Beau balled her fists. 

And her door burst open. 

“Get off her!” Jester yelled, as white light burst from her hand.

The light formed into a lollipop, and slammed into Thoreau, knocking him backwards. Beau heard the sound of a staff being slammed onto the ground, and bugs burst from Caduceus’ staff, diving towards Thoreau. 

Fire rushed past her head, singing Beau’s eyebrows. The flame hit Thoreau’s chest, and he was on fire. A sickly green light burst from Fjord’s sword, and twined around the arrow that Nott shot, to slam into Thoreau’s torso at the same time. 

And then Beau saw a woman leap over her, illuminated by a flash of lightning. Black wings burst from her back as she sailed forward, and her sword came down in an overhead swing, slashing Thoreau’s chest. 

Thoreau stumbled backwards, hitting the windowsill. Rain poured through, and steam rose around him as the rain found patches of fire on his coat. His fingers loosened, and the knife slipped from his fingers, falling toward the wooden ground. 

Beau could see the reflections of her saviours in the metal as the knife span in slow motion. A woman with pale skin, and fury in her mismatched eyes. A goblin, and a half-orc, who stood framing the doorway. A man with bandages wrapped around his forearms, and flames curling through his fingers. A blue tiefling, who stood with her arm raised.  
Beau could see light gathering at Jester’s fingertips, and a thin beam streaked from them. It passed over Beau’s head inch by inch, and hit Thoreau's chest. His eyes widened slowly, and the hilt of the knife hit the ground. 

The knife bounced, turning in the other direction. Her dad’s hand moved towards the windowsill, and Beau saw the raindrops splash against his flesh as his fingers curled along the edge of the windowsill. 

His hand began to slip on the rain that had gathered on the wood, and Thoreau began to dip backwards. He tried to step forward, to plant his foot, but that slipped too. 

And he was falling out the window, lifted from where he stood by that beam of light. 

Everything sped back up, and Beau gaped. Suddenly she could hear sound again, of people yelling, and she could feel a hand around her upper arm, hauling her up. The half-orc was shouting at her, but Beau could only hear echoes. 

_“Did you pack a bag?”_

_“We need to get out of here.”_

_“Beau, are you okay?!”_

The half-orc. 

The human. 

The tiefling. 

Fjord. 

Caleb. 

Jester.

“What? Yes, I packed a bag. I-It’s over there.” Beau pointed to the base of her bed. Yasha scooped up the bag, and Fjord was pulling her out of her room, while Jester lay cool hands against her and made her wounds heal up. 

Beau caught a glimpse of her mother peeking from her parents room, and caught sight of their live in guard as he stumbled from his quarters, before an arrow found his chest. 

And then they were rushing down the grand staircase, and bursting from the front doors, into the night rain. It was pouring down around them as they ran for their horses, and everyone mounted up. 

Beau found herself behind Jester, with her hands wrapped around her stomach. 

Mud flew up as their horses thundered for the town. 

Loud chimes echoed as the clock struck twelve, and Beau found tears on her face, mixing with the rain. Her house grew smaller and smaller on the horizon, the only home she had ever known. 

“Are you okay?” A chirpy voice asked, snapping Beau from her reverie. 

Beau glanced forward, locking eyes with Jester. 

“It’s my birthday.” Beau whispered, her voice frail. “I thought I would be dead by now.” 

Jester’s face scrunched in sympathy, and she turned forward. “Well that just means we have to get tons and tons of cupcakes, because you’re totally not going to die anytime soon. Oh! What’s your favourite colour? Oh my gosh do you like flowers? Or what about necklaces? Or maybe a _super_ frilly dress...” 

Jester’s voice mingled with the clop of horse shoes, and Beau glanced at the people that rode around her. Beau finally looked up, to where a faint yellow was blossoming on the horizon. 

Streaks of yellow, and orange, and pink, and purple. 

The clouds parted, and the sun burst forward, illuminating the world around them. 

And Beau leaned back, throwing her arms towards the sky. 

And she laughed. 

And laughed. 

And voices began to laugh with her. 

And they laughed.

Together.


End file.
